Every Day Quotes October
by MissJayne
Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles about our favourite characters. One quote per day.
1. Oct 1

Every Day Quotes: October

_**Oct 1  
**_What is the difference between unethical and ethical advertising? Unethical advertising uses falsehoods to deceive the public; ethical advertising uses truth to deceive the public.  
**Vilhjalmur Stefansson (1879 - 1962)**

Jennifer Shepard felt sometimes as though she did not speak the same language as her ex-partner. It was like communicating across several galaxies, when he only understood half of her language.

"You lied," he crowed.

She flexed her fingers, and resisted the urge to put them around his neck and squeeze. This was her office; there had to be some semblance of propriety in here.

"When?" she demanded, although she had a funny feeling she knew his answer.

"Charity event last night," he confirmed. "Your speech was full of lies."

"I did not lie. I simply didn't tell the whole truth."

"It's called _lying_, Jen."

She shook her head in frustration. "If I was going to tell them the whole truth about this agency, I would have talked exclusively about paperwork and rotting corpses. They'd just eaten dinner!"

"Would have been the truth," he persisted.

She scowled. "The whole point of the event was for people to donate generously to charity and possibly view NCIS in a new light, encouraging them to help us. I couldn't tell them the whole truth, but I didn't lie either."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Same thing."

"Did you ever study philosophy?" she questioned. "Oh wait, I don't think they offered that at Parris Island."

It was his turn to scowl. "Diplomacy always was your strong suit," he retorted angrily, before storming out of her office.

She rubbed her brow and sighed. Just what she needed. Gibbs in a mood always meant more trouble.


	2. Oct 2

_**Oct 2  
**_It is the rare fortune of these days that one may think what one likes and say what one thinks.  
**Cornelius Tacitus (55 AD - 117 AD)**, _Histories_

Abby Scuito believed in saying exactly what she thought.

Some people kept their mouths shut and said very little, always conscious of saying the wrong thing. Others lied through their teeth in what would ultimately be a futile attempt to make themselves popular. And others watched every word they spoke, clouding their true meaning in ambiguities, refusing to give a straight answer.

But not Abby. She was determined to speak her mind, and perhaps it was this trait that so endeared her to others. She believed in telling the truth, however bad it could get. If she believed something, it was her duty to tell someone when they asked.

To do otherwise was to lie to others and herself. If she believed in something, if she had faith and truly believed, she was prepared to openly stand by her thoughts, no matter if those beliefs could be considered odd or different. She was who she was and no one would ever change that.

She wasn't sure what made people love her so much. She knew she loved freely and cared about everything and everyone around her. But part of her hoped it was due to, however small a degree, their knowledge she would truthfully say what she thought.


	3. Oct 3

_**Oct 3  
**_Wait for that wisest of all counselors, Time.  
**Pericles (490 BC - 429 BC)**, _from Plutarch, Lives_

Tobias Fornell tapped his foot as he waited for the elevator to arrive.

NCIS had tried unsuccessfully to steal a case they knew the FBI had jurisdiction for. When his superiors had found out, they had assigned him the job of taking over, probably because he had such a good success rate at doing so. Most FBI agents ran screaming from the Navy Yard when they tried to take a case from Gibbs, but Tobias knew how to get the job done.

Understandably, Gibbs hadn't been too happy when they had run into each other at the coffee shop, but Tobias had promised to keep him in the loop and turn the case straight back over if there was any reason to do so. It was Jethro's lucky day – the whole thing was destined to turn into a media nightmare and, within a few days, the higher-ups were certainly going to be wishing they hadn't interfered in the first place.

And so they stood together in the NCIS lobby, waiting for the elevator to arrive so they could board and reach the squad room. Both clutched a cup of fresh coffee from their mutual caffeine dealer down the street, and they both tapped their left foot impatiently as they waited for the metal cage to arrive.

Its arrival was announced by the familiar ding, and they strode forward together, perfectly in stride. Neither needed to discuss the matter any further, both aware it would only be a day or so before the case was returned to this building.


	4. Oct 4

_**Oct 4  
**_We go where our vision is.  
**Joseph Murphy**

Ducky stared at Anthony. The younger man was trying to view a scratch on Petty Officer Vidal's arm, but he was squinting. A lot.

It couldn't be due to the lighting; the overhead lights highlighted the mark perfectly. And it was a fairly obvious mark; Ducky had been able to see it without any problems. Even Mr. Palmer had instantly spotted it, wondering aloud if it could be linked with the cause of death.

Ducky wasn't quite so sure about that – he was more interested in the iron flecks he had found in the wound – but it was certainly something to be considered. If Anthony could ever locate it, of course.

He gave up, pointing with his gloved finger towards the scratch. "Oh yes," the young man muttered.

"When was the last time you had an eye test?" Ducky inquired.

"Last year," Anthony recalled easily. "After Ziva 'accidently' punched me in the face and the ER doc wanted to check I was okay."

Ducky decided not to ask why his partner had punched him in the face. It was either the time Anthony had put a butterfly in her drawer and been standing right behind her when she'd opened it, or the time Anthony had broken into her apartment while she had been on stakeout to put itching powder in her underwear.

"I think you might need one," Ducky suggested gently.

Anthony stood up. "Can you really see me with glasses?" he asked.


	5. Oct 5

_**Oct 5  
**_First it is necessary to stand on your own two feet. But the minute a man finds himself in that position, the next thing he should do is reach out his arms.  
**Kristin Hunter**, _O Magazine, November 2003_

"TONY!" Timothy McGee bellowed once more down the narrow road, before deciding to give up and come up with a new plan. Yelling clearly wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Right now, he would have settled for going anywhere himself. But being handcuffed to a car door handle presented a slight problem. Especially as Tony had wandered off.

Unsurprisingly, it was all Tony's fault. With a very vague report from a very young witness who claimed to have spotted a dead body in the woods, Gibbs had only dispatched two of his agents to check it out. Nine times out of ten, it turned out the kid had seen an oddly-shaped tree trunk, but they had to double-check. Still, unless one of them spotted a body, there was no need for the whole team to descend on the area and investigate.

Yet.

After much pleading from Ziva, Tim had planted a mild virus on Tony's computer that morning. It hadn't taken a highly-trained investigator to work out who had done it, and Tony had been shooting him looks promising revenge all day. Tim couldn't blame him; it wasn't as though he could get revenge on the Mossad assassin who had set him up to it.

And now Tony had handcuffed him to the car, in the middle of nowhere, tossed his handcuff keys on the floor just underneath the car, and wandered off to search for this supposed dead body. Knowing Tim's luck, he would be here for hours if he couldn't get loose himself.

Cursing himself for not asking Ziva to show him how to escape from handcuffs in all the years he had been working with her, he crouched down and peered under the car as best he could. Just out of reach. Nevertheless, he stuck his arm out and stretched as far as he could. He had nothing better to do.

And if Tony got back to the car to find he had hot-wired it (something he _had_ asked Ziva to show him how to do) and driven off, it would make his day.


	6. Oct 6

_**Oct 6  
**_Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable.  
**C. S. Lewis (1898 - 1963)**

Ziva David thought her partner was an idiot at the best of times.

He regularly wound her up, stole her belongings, distracted her, and harassed her to the point where she wanted to stick her knife in his eye. He was a lying, cheating, lazy pain in her life, but somehow she had a soft spot for him. It was the only way to explain why she had not yet killed him.

Today, he had passed the time by asking stupid questions. Not questions that were silly and childish for once, oh no. Questions that made absolutely no sense, like 'how high can an elephant jump' and 'how many men would be needed to pry Gibbs away from his coffee'. Pointless questions. Nonsense questions. Questions that had no answer in this world and probably not in the next either.

Nevertheless, in spite of or perhaps because of his insane behavior, she had found herself drawn in. She had thrown the odd piece of miscellaneous stationary at him, to keep him on his toes, but she had found herself answering his questions with her own brand of nonsense, at one point switching to Hebrew to confuse him further. It had left McGee with a headache and Gibbs threatening headslaps all round, but she had enjoyed herself.

Perhaps that was why Tony asked the nonsense questions, to enjoy himself. She was going to have to experiment further. Tomorrow, she would ask him silly questions and see how he responded.


	7. Oct 7

_**Oct 7  
**_One never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done.  
**Marie Curie (1867 - 1934)**, _letter to her brother, 1894_

Ducky didn't like to think of his past guests. They were all long beyond his help now, decomposing in the ground somewhere or cremated and their ashes blown to every corner of the earth. His only hope was that he had managed to achieve justice for them in whatever form that had been possible.

Occasionally, one guest would remind him of a past one. He remembered them all, and felt this was more important than where they had ended up. Everyone continued to live after death if they were in someone's thoughts. His guests, even if they had no one else, would always have him.

Instead, he chose to focus on his present guests and any that would cross his path in the future. He kept himself, his morgue and his medical examiner's van ready at all times so he could assist whenever necessary. He thought about the future, about the possibility of a larger freezer when people seemed more determined to kill each other than before, and about how he could help whichever poor soul was on his table at the moment.

Perhaps it was an unhealthy attitude, but although looking at the present and the future made him despair for the human race at times, he felt it helped his guests more. And that was what mattered most to him.


	8. Oct 8

_**Oct 8  
**_The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds the most discoveries, is not 'Eureka!' (I found it!) but 'That's funny...'  
**Isaac Asimov (1920 - 1992)**

Abby Scuito loved science. It could answer the vast majority of questions, as long as a person knew what they were doing.

She also loved her job. She liked following thoughts down unfamiliar pathways, examining evidence with an open mind, discovering as much as possible from something that was often so small it was impossible to see with the naked eye, and determining what truly happened in a situation when various people were lying. She trusted in her science to answer any questions posed, even though sometimes it asked new ones.

Her eyes scanned the meteorological data she had obtained from a weather station. Ducky had given Sergeant Rider a tentative time of death of four to five days before the discovery of his body. Now it was her turn to use the available information and come up with an absolute hour than he could not have died before.

It was all to do with procession, the amount of energy required for a blowfly to grow, which was tied to the temperature, and the weather itself at the time she determined. It could be too windy for a blowfly to deposit eggs on a corpse, or there could be too much rain. If she factored in all the variables, she could come up with a much more precise time than Ducky, but it took a lot longer.

She grinned as the final few figures slotted into place. Ducky was out by a whole day. Gibbs was going to love this…


	9. Oct 9

_**Oct 9  
**_To try to be better is to be better.  
**Charlotte Cushman (1816 - 1876)**, _quoted in O Magazine, December 2003_

Jennifer Shepard wasn't entirely sure how she managed to crack open an eye to greet her visitor, but considering she had a very nasty bout of the flu and had spent the last three days on the couch in her living room, she thought it an achievement.

Her ex-partner stood before her, taking in the blankets and her pajamas. If she'd had the energy, she would have told him to get out until she was more decent, but he'd seen it all before and she knew she would be wasting her breath. He placed the back of his hand on her forehand and she instinctively leant into his cold touch.

"Thought you were joking about the flu," he informed her.

She glared at him as much as was possible; she had a feeling it failed completely. "You think I'd voluntarily leave you in charge of my agency?"

His face broke out in his familiar crooked grin.

"Jethro," she warned.

"Relax," he told her. "It's in one piece. Fornell was interested in moving into your office – said it had a nice view."

She decided to give up on the conversation and snuggled deeper into her blankets. He was either going to tell her about how he'd wrecked her precious agency or how he was undoing all her hard work, and she was too tired to get angry at him.

"Jen?"

"Hmmm."

"Want some chicken soup?"


	10. Oct 10

_**Oct 10  
**_I hope you become comfortable with the use of logic without being deceived into concluding that logic will inevitably lead you to the correct conclusion.  
**Neil Armstrong (1930 - 2012)**, _USC 2005 graduation_

Tony DiNozzo wondered why he was always the last one in the squad room. Excluding Gibbs, as he just plain lived there, only leaving for basement and boat time. But, more often than not, he ended up working more hours than Ziva and McGee.

Tonight, he definitely wasn't the last. Gibbs had escorted the Director home hours ago and Tony was having some very happy thoughts on exactly what they were getting up to. Could he use this to win the pool, or would everyone demand more proof?

The Probie, taking advantage of Gibbs' disappearance, had done a vanishing act with Abby. This left Tony with his partner in the squad room, her tapping away at her computer while he watched the sun set.

"You know you can't act on logic alone," he called across to her, determined to break the comfortable silence that had settled over them both.

She glanced up from her work, pausing for a moment. "What?"

"Logic," he repeated.

"It is not about logic," she replied. "It is about following orders without question."

"You could show a little emotion every now and then," he pointed out.

She shook her head; he watched as her hair moved in the lamplight. "Emotion is not necessary to –"

"Sometimes it is," he interrupted.

Clearly frustrated, she glared at him. "Sometimes emotions get in the way of doing your job."

"Okay." He spread his palms in defeat. "Touchy subject. I'll shut up." He waited until she had glared at him one final time and returned to her typing, before he muttered under his breath, "Sometimes you can only go by your emotions."


	11. Oct 11

_**Oct 11  
**_There is no human reason why a child should not admire and emulate his teacher's ability to do sums, rather than the village bum's ability to whittle sticks and smoke cigarettes. The reason why the child does not is plain enough - the bum has put himself on an equality with him and the teacher has not.  
**Floyd Dell**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was very aware that he kept himself aloof from his team. He didn't join in with their pranks, he avoided their jokes, and he shut down conversations that were not relevant to their current case.

His team disliked this behavior, but he hadn't become Team Leader to win any popularity contests. As far as he was concerned, his job was to be separate. His team needed to know he was different to them; they needed to see him focused on each investigation and worrying solely about it.

He knew some team leaders acted differently; they kept themselves on the same level as their team and maintained friendships. He couldn't see how this worked. If he gossiped with DiNozzo, discussed silly feminine things with Ziva and showed an interest in McGee's computers, his team might like him more, but it wouldn't get the job done. His team needed to admire him, to respect him, and they couldn't do that if he took sides in their arguments or shared scuttlebutt with them.

Despite his best efforts to remain aloof, he was not above showing he cared when necessary. He protected his team as a mother bear did her cubs. He backed them up, supported them whenever they needed his help, and truly cared about them.

However he handled his team, they had become his misfit family.


	12. Oct 12

_**Oct 12  
**_So you see, imagination needs moodling - long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering.  
**Brenda Ueland**

Tony DiNozzo did not believe in hard work.

Considering he worked on Agent Gibbs' team, this ran the risk of being a suicidal habit. Gibbs expected his agents to work every hour possible and then some, to work until justice was achieved, whatever the personal cost. He didn't believe in breaks and vacations on principle.

But Tony believed genius could not be rushed. He preferred to work smart rather than work hard. While his teammates slaved away over their computers and phones, he napped, allowed ideas to work their way around his brain, considered various options and decided which path to follow. If his mind had time to think, it would produce excellent results.

This work ethic clashed with his teammates, especially since in his downtime he liked to gossip like an old woman or pull pranks. Ziva spent a large amount of her time threatening to remove various limbs, while the Probie, who couldn't harm a fly, simply sighed continually and tried to avoid the inevitable headslaps resulting from Tony's behavior. He got less than he expected; apparently Gibbs understood how genius worked. On the inside anyway – _el jefe_ definitely preferred to see him working hard and keeping his mouth shut.

He began to doodle on a random piece of paper. Time to allow his brain to percolate.


	13. Oct 13

_**Oct 13  
**_There but for the grace of God go [I].  
**John Bradford**, _Encyclopedia of Word and Phrase Origins_

Jennifer Shepard did not dislike paperwork, but when the files on her desk seemed to resemble half the Amazonian rainforest, she had a few issues with it.

She worked long hours mainly to keep on top of it all. The hours a normal person kept in the office were often spent in meetings and in MTAC, overseeing operations, politely persuading the higher-ups to give her agency more money, managing the latest media crisis a certain Agent Gibbs had caused. She played telephone tag with senators and lunched with congressmen.

But she still had all her paperwork to deal with, and hence she worked long into the night. How Morrow had seemed so relaxed all the time was beyond her; she wanted to find a way to prevent half this paper crossing her desk. Did she really need to check every case file personally? Surely Legal would be better suited to making sure there were no holes in a case.

Her feet propped up on her desk, high heels long kicked off and abandoned on the floor, she picked up the next case file. One of Gibbs'. She wasn't sure whether to laugh as she read between the lines or resist the urge to kill him for his reckless ways. But as she opened it, something fluttered to the carpet.

She picked it up, slightly bemused to find it was a newspaper clipping. Since when did he bother to read a newspaper? The article was short, informing its readers of the death of Charlotte Billingham, who had met her demise tripping and breaking her neck while wearing four inch stilettos.

Glancing at her own four inch stilettos on the floor, she smirked. Jethro always knew how to tease her.


	14. Oct 14

_**Oct 14  
**_I think that when you invite people to your home, you invite them to yourself.  
**Oprah Winfrey (1954 - )**, _20th Anniversary DVD_

Ducky entered the squad room with a smile on his face. Today was a good day. It was Sunday morning, the sun was shining, and his guests had all been dealt with and were awaiting familial arrangements.

Jethro and his team were in their usual places, having unfortunately drawn the weekend shift. But for once, it looked as though naval personnel and marines had refrained from killing each other; Jethro would never allow Anthony to get away with making paper airplanes so obviously on his desk if they had any work to do.

"Good morning, Ducky." Ziva was the first to notice him, her Mossad training picking up on his movements and determining who he was without turning around.

"Boker tov," he replied, finding himself embroiled in the familiar round of greetings. Jethro simply looked up from his work and raised his eyebrows.

Ducky resisted a grin; for a man who said almost nothing, Jethro could be very expressive when he wished to be.

"I was wondering if anyone had any important plans tonight." He addressed them all, watching as they each shook their heads in turn. "A lady friend has given me a magnificent chicken for my tea tonight, and I couldn't possibly eat it alone. Since you drew the weekend shift, I thought you might wish to partake of it with me."

Anthony cheered so loudly at the idea that Jethro looked as though he would rise out of his seat to deliver a headslap. Meanwhile, Ziva and Timothy began thanking him and wondering if they could supply anything.

"Of course not," he assured them. "Come as you are whenever Jethro allows you to leave."

He smiled to himself as he made for the elevator. Naturally, the invitation needed to be extended to others.


	15. Oct 15

_**Oct 15  
**_Good ideas are not adopted automatically. They must be driven into practice with courageous patience.  
**Hyman Rickover (1900 - 1986)**

"Why do we have to do this?"

Timothy McGee looked up at Tony's whine. "The Director felt some of the regulations needed clarifying," he explained, wondering on which planet Tony's mind had been during the meeting in the conference room.

"I got _that_," Tony snorted. "But 'no beverages in MTAC', 'no unauthorized games on agency computers', 'no magazines that could lead to a sexual harassment suit'? Come on!"

While Tim privately felt Ziva would only report Tony's issues of GSM lying around if he pulled an insane prank on her, the games on Tony's computer definitely needed to go. He spent far too much of his time playing on them.

And it wasn't as though anyone (expect possibly Abby) would find the unauthorized games on _his_ computer.

"It's just a few changes," Tim pointed out. "And anyway, there are all in the regulations. They've always been there. The Director just feels some of them are being flouted a little too much."

"A _few_ changes!" Tony protested. "Except for the ban on hacking, which applies to you, every single one of them affects me!"

Tim sighed. "Look, I know the Director said this behavior would be cracked down on. But have you ever paid attention in the past?"

Tony shook his head; Tim wasn't even slightly surprised.

"There'll be a crackdown," Tim confided. "For about two weeks. And then everyone will forget about it and you can carry on as you did before."

"Oh," Tony realized, as Gibbs appeared from his latest coffee run and hit him across the back of the head.

"Except for Gibbs," Tim muttered under his breath. "He never forgets."


	16. Oct 16

_**Oct 16  
**_Determine never to be idle... It is wonderful how much may be done if we are always doing.  
**Thomas Jefferson (1743 - 1826)**

Jimmy Palmer couldn't remember the last time he had been deliberately idle in Autopsy.

His job as Doctor Mallard's assistant was to learn everything he could and take the weight off his mentor's shoulders. In doing this, he tried his hand at every task, believing he learnt best by having a go. He stitched up corpses, he anticipated the instruments Doctor Mallard would need and handed them to him before he could ask, he kept the chemical cupboard in Autopsy fully stocked at all times, and he kept the whole place sparkling clean.

It was a tiring job, but his mentor thanked him and praised him whenever necessary. He felt as though he was learning the ropes and slowly but surely getting to understand how a medical examiner went about his work. He dealt with grieving families and funeral homes that didn't care. He made sure Janitorial knew what they needed.

One day, he would have his own practice somewhere. And he would have to stand on his own two feet, without an assistant of his own. He had to be confident and able to do every task required of him; he couldn't keep turning to Doctor Mallard to help him. With all the tasks to learn, he didn't have time to be idle, to play around and slack off. He needed to keep his nose to the grindstone.

And one day, he would get to where he wanted to be.


	17. Oct 17

_**Oct 17  
**_Good habits result from resisting temptation.  
**Ancient Proverb**

Abby Scuito stared at the cupcake sitting on the desk that was normally covered with evidence.

It was the sole item on the table, sitting right in the very centre. A triple chocolate cupcake, covered in lashings of chocolate icing and chocolate curls sprinkled liberally on top. It sat in all its glory, filling her lab with the scent of chocolate and tempting her to eat it.

Except she couldn't. It was her last day of cutting chocolate from her diet; tomorrow she could eat it, today she couldn't. Tony had gotten his dates mixed up when he had bought this for her. Unable to stand the kicked puppy dog look on his face, she had solemnly informed him she would take it off his hands and not eat it until tomorrow.

Mainly because she was almost completely certain the cupcake wouldn't survive in the squad room.

And so it sat on her table, tempting her. She stared at it, crouched down at eye level. There had never been a better cupcake inside her lab, never been a more delicious cupcake sitting on her table. Perhaps she could just steal one single chocolate curl, no one would ever know…

She snatched her hand back. No, she would control herself. It would be her reward for surviving a month without chocolate. Smiling to herself, she turned around and continued her work.


	18. Oct 18

_**Oct 18  
**_The married are those who have taken the terrible risk of intimacy and, having taken it, know life without intimacy to be impossible.  
**Carolyn Heilbrun (1926 - )**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had more than his fair share of ex-wives behind him. When he thought about it, he knew why he had married each one of them.

His marriage to Shannon had been perfect. He had not been able to conceive the idea of living without her; even when he had been overseas, he had counted the time until he was back by her side. Until she had been ripped from him forever.

When he had finally found his feet, he had attempted to recreate his marriage. He had found redheads who loved him and married them. But he hadn't loved them back and that was deliberate. He couldn't love someone in the same way he had loved Shannon for fear that history would repeat itself, for fear he would never recover a second time.

He knew that was where he had gone wrong. If he had loved any one of his new wives, he could have made an attempt to hold another marriage together. But he hadn't loved them, he'd loved the idea of another safe, stable marriage, and thus doomed the whole enterprise from the start.

Finally, he had figured out where he was going wrong. And then he started gathering a team around him, finding people as flawed as himself and drawing them together in a pseudo-family. Now he had a second family, one he wouldn't give up for the world.


	19. Oct 19

_**Oct 19  
**_I admit it's tempting to wish for the perfect boss, or the perfect parent, or the perfect outfit, but maybe the best any of us can do is not quit. Play the hand we've been given and accessorize the outfit we've got.  
**Allan Heinberg**, _Sex and the City, A 'Vogue' Idea, 2002_

"Can you imagine what it would be like if we had a different boss?" Tony wondered out loud.

"You mean like Patterson?" Ziva questioned. "Because I would have to inform him of his body odor problem."

"I think he already knows about that, Zee-_vah_," he retorted.

"Because you refuse to have a conversation with the man without holding your nose," McGee piped up.

"Back on topic." Tony decided, ignoring that it was usually him who derailed team conversations. "What would it be like if we had the perfect boss?"

"We already have him," Ziva answered instantly. "Except he needs to be more cheerful and give us more time off."

"See, that's what I mean," Tony grinned. "We have a good boss –" He paused and looked around, wanting to be absolutely certain the boss in question wasn't skulking around somewhere waiting to deliver three stinging headslaps. "But we don't have a perfect one."

"Kinder," McGee decided, apparently satisfied Gibbs wasn't about to kill them all. "One who understood computers."

Tony snorted. "No one is as intimate with computers as you," he countered. "I think… I'd prefer a female boss."

"So you could google her?" Ziva queried, a knowing smile on her face.

"Ogle," McGee corrected helpfully.

"With long legs, a killer smile, stunning… You're right behind me, aren't you Boss?"

The headslap was harder than usual.

"Thank you, Boss."

"Don't thank me." Director Shepard came into his line of sight. "I'm sure he'll be very interested to hear what you've been discussing."


	20. Oct 20

_**Oct 20  
**_Money alone sets all the world in motion.  
**Publilius Syrus (~100 BC)**, _Maxims_

Tony DiNozzo continued to search through Ziva's desk even as he heard her objection.

He knew he was risking various limbs, but he could deal with that later. He had something more important to handle first. Finding his wallet.

He knew he'd had it this morning; McGee had owed him ten bucks after losing a bet, and he'd tucked the bill into his wallet. But he wasn't sure what had happened to it since. Gibbs had sent him to Ducky, Ducky had sent him to Abby, and Abby had kept him in her lab for half an hour with a tale about Agent Wofford chasing an alligator down the road while on assignment in Florida after the creature had swallowed her badge.

He could easily have lost his precious wallet at any of these points, but he doubted it. Ziva had spent the past few days practicing her pickpocket skills; he'd already lost his car keys, comb, Mighty Mouse stapler and letter opener to her. And now she had stolen his wallet. Probably in revenge for the ten bucks McGee had owed him.

"Remove that hand from my drawer before I remove it for you and beat you to death with it," she warned.

"I need my wallet," he reminded her. "I'm taking Laura from Legal out for lunch."

"I do not have your wallet, _ahabal_," she replied. "Now remove your hand immediately."


	21. Oct 21

_**Oct 21  
**_Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.  
**William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616)**, _"The Two Gentlemen of Verona", Act 1 scene 1_

Ziva David glanced up from her computer, satisfied herself that the squad room was virtually empty, or empty enough for her liking anyway, and clicked her tongue to get McGee's attention.

To his credit, he looked up immediately. "Huh?"

"I believe you are the right person to ask," she informed him solemnly. "I am confused, and you are an author."

"I don't see how they go together," McGee mused.

She had to hurry him up; Tony could return from Abby's lab any minute. "Shakespeare."

"William Shakespeare, playwright," McGee immediately answered. "What about him?"

Ziva looked around again, getting up from her seat so she wouldn't have to shout across the empty space between them. "I do not understand what all the fuss is about," she murmured to him.

"Shakespeare was a very talented writer of his day," McGee began, but she cut him off impatiently.

"I know that. But that was then. I do not see what relevance he has today. I cannot understand half of what he is saying."

McGee took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I don't understand half of it either," he admitted. "But it's about the feelings he evokes. His writing echoes through to our time, that's how good it is. Are you reading his writing or watching it being performed?"

"Reading," she stated. "'_The Two Gentlemen of Verona'_."

He nodded. "It always makes more sense when you see it performed," he confirmed. "I think it's on in a few weeks at one of the theatres. We could go together?"

"It would be my pleasure," she told him.


	22. Oct 22

_**Oct 22  
**_We don't know who we are until we see what we can do.  
**Martha Grimes**

Timothy McGee wondered why he had bothered to get out of bed.

First his alarm clock had failed, after Sarah had removed the batteries the day before. Then, despite his desperate attempts to get to work on time, someone had stolen his car. Gibbs had yelled at him for arrived so late, Tony had put superglue on his keyboard again, and Ziva, who had thoughtfully bought him a coffee to cheer him up, had tripped over and dropped the scalding liquid in his lap.

Gibbs had made him work through his usual lunch hour, to ensure someone remained in the squad room while everyone else disappeared for food. Then he had been granted his own time for lunch, but he had too many errands to run before he could eat.

Which was how he found himself in the bank when the armed robber strolled in.

He wasn't in the mood for this at all. The robber was just a kid, still in his teens, so inexperienced he hadn't bothered to cover his face and was waving his gun around as though it was a toy. It could have been a toy for all Tim knew, but he wasn't going to take a gamble and lose. Knowing his luck, he'd be in emergency surgery before the end of the day.

But that didn't mean he was going to roll over and take this too.

The moment the gunman looked the other way, he pulled out his gun and took aim. "Federal agent," he yelled. "Freeze."


	23. Oct 23

_**Oct 23  
**_Remember, that if thou marry for beauty, thou bindest thyself all thy life for that which perchance will neither last nor please thee one year; and when thou hast it, it will be to thee of no price at all; for the desire dieth when it is attained, and the affection perisheth when it is satisfied.  
**Sir Walter Raleigh (1552 - 1618)**

Tony DiNozzo could not understand why anyone would want to get married. It was such an archaic institution. Married men died younger, he was sure of it.

Why would anyone want to be tied to one person? He liked keeping his options open, especially as he fell in love one day and out of love three weeks later. Long term commitment wasn't an option for him. What if he married a monster? He couldn't follow his father's usual route of simply moving.

He looked up to his boss in a lot of things, and one of them was marriage. With three failed marriages beneath his belt, scheming ex-wives and alimony hanging over his head, Gibbs was a walking advertisement for not getting married. Tony ignored the fact that the boss would happily get married again – he had to have a few screws loose to get married four times in the first place.

But marriage was pointless. All it really did was tie two people's finances together, and the moment the relationship went sour, the fight for the money began. He saw too many spouses killing their other half in his day job. He wanted to live to a ripe old age.

Perhaps one day, if he met the right girl, his views would change. For now, the very idea of marriage was something to be scorned.


	24. Oct 24

_**Oct 24  
**_He had occasional flashes of silence, that made his conversation perfectly delightful.  
**Sydney Smith (1771 - 1845)**, _referring to Macaulay_

Timothy McGee resisted the urge to sigh and break the silence that had fallen over the squad room. He loved silence.

Not always, as evidenced when he spent time with Abby and they happily gossiped like old women while hacking into the CIA or something similar. He was happy with her music – it didn't bother him and if it helped her work, he could live with it. He enjoyed having lunch with Ducky and talking about old cases or current world events. He liked giving secret readings of his latest novel to Ziva, who had been sworn to secrecy about the plotlines; he needed to bounce ideas off someone and if he could keep the Mossad assassin satisfied with what was happening to 'Lisa', he was more likely to live a long, pain-free life.

But silence in the squad room was glorious. Mainly because it meant Tony was keeping his mouth shut for once. Tony's idea of a conversation made Tim want to block his ears or run away screaming. He didn't need to know every detail about the other man's social life and his current girlfriend, or the latest movie he'd seen or what he'd had for breakfast.

And there were other things he really didn't want to know about at all.

Silence in the squad room was golden. The pauses in Tony's conversation made his day.


	25. Oct 25

_**Oct 25  
**_In every age 'the good old days' were a myth. No one ever thought they were good at the time. For every age has consisted of crises that seemed intolerable to the people who lived through them.  
**Brooks Atkinson (1894 - 1984)**, _Once Around the Sun (1951)_

Ducky was very aware of history. He was not sure whether this was because he had a genuine interest in the subject, or whether he had simply lived so long and through so many different defining moments in history that he remembered them all well.

One thing he was very aware of was the constant calls that civilization was about to end, that society was breaking down and it was always so much better 'back then'. Truth be told, he felt the allure of it himself. Viewing the past with rose-tinted spectacles made him feel happier, more content. A utopia that could be achieved if they just went back in time a little way.

But it was all an illusion. Every society felt exactly the same way. Records had been found from the Romans complaining that society was crumbling (although perhaps they had a point…). In reality, life continued to improve for the vast majority of people in the civilized world. Access to life-saving medicines. A free education for all. Increased life expectancy and wealth. A free press, a democratic government – he took these for granted when others could not.

Perhaps the crime rate went up at times, but anyone could prove anything was statistics. Ducky had heard Abigail arguing that an increase in crime rates could simply mean more people were reporting crimes, or more crimes were being solved, or some activity had been classed as a crime and people had yet to get the message.

Sometimes he had to remember himself that he was living in a good place at a good time. And he was able to surround himself with the people he loved and cared about, able to speak his mind on whatever subject he wished.


	26. Oct 26

_**Oct 26  
**_I am not a saint, unless you think of a saint as a sinner who keeps on trying.  
**Nelson Mandela (1918 - )**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not regard himself as a good man. A good man was a saint who never made mistakes. A good man would not have failed his family when they needed him the most.

Instead, he chose to view himself as a flawed man, perhaps simply a man as all were flawed, who tried to do his best in life. He might have lost his family, but he worked every hour he could to achieve justice for others who found themselves in his position through no fault of their own. He had gathered a group of people around him who all needed a family in one shape or another, and maintained a structure which they were all content with.

He made mistakes; everyone did. He had a string of ex-wives, drank more than was good for him, ignored or outright broke the law when he felt it was the only way to achieve justice for someone, and gave his friends headaches from all the trouble he caused them.

But he hoped his good deeds outweighed his bad. He brought back kidnap victims alive to their families. He defused bombs and hostage situations so no innocent would be hurt. He found closure for the dead, and hope for the living.

If he was a saint, he would hate to meet a sinner.


	27. Oct 27

_**Oct 27  
**_Grief can take care of itself, but to get the full value of a joy you must have somebody to divide it with.  
**Mark Twain (1835 - 1910)**

"He is the cutest thing I have ever seen."

"I know. And so soft!"

"He is?"

"You can touch him; he won't bite."

"But he appears to be asleep. I do not wish to wake him."

"It's fine. He falls asleep at the drop of a hat. And he looks so cute when you disturb his sleep."

Jennifer Shepard grinned at her Israeli friend, who she had summoned mysteriously to her office five minutes ago. The reason lay curled in a ball on her desk, a tiny bundle of fluff. The most beautiful kitten in the shelter. She hadn't planned to give him a home, but when he had looked at her with his big, wide, innocent eyes, she had fallen head over heels and couldn't abandon him.

And now Ziva was falling in love as well.

The redhead reached out and gently poked her tiny fluffball, who jerked awake and looked around in confusion. As the two women cooed, they began to stroke him.

"Do you have a name for him yet?" Ziva inquired, tickling under his chin.

Jenny giggled. "I can't decide between Jethro and Tobias," she admitted.

Ziva smiled wickedly. "Perhaps we should ask Abby's opinion on such an important matter."


	28. Oct 28

_**Oct 28  
**_The First Amendment is often inconvenient. But that is besides the point. Inconvenience does not absolve the government of its obligation to tolerate speech.  
**Justice Anthony Kennedy (1936 - )**

Ziva David stared at her partner as though he had grown another head. "The First Amendment is about free speech," she reminded him, as she would a five year old. "Not guns."

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm right," he argued.

"'A well-regulated militia' is in the Second Amendment'," she informed him.

"We should ask McGee," Tony decided.

She laughed. "I cannot believe this. If I, as a non-American, know this, why do you not? You were born here, no? Then you should know more than me."

"I know more movies than you," he countered.

"It is hardly the same thing. Your Constitution or movies. I know which one will help you more."

She was not even sure how this argument had come about. Most of Tony's discussions followed no apparent logical line of thought, but this one had spiraled from an article about Ferrari.

How could he not know his own laws? Never mind the details of the smaller ones, as only lawyers needed to be aware of them, but this was a big one. The Constitution and the Amendments upon which his entire justice system rested. She did not expect him to be able to quote them, but at least know which way round they were.

"If guns are the Second," Tony wondered aloud, "then which one is the right to face your accuser?"


	29. Oct 29

_**Oct 29  
**_Beyond happiness or unhappiness, though it is both things, love is intensity; it does not give us eternity but life, that second in which the doors of time and space open just a crack: here is there and now is always.  
**Octavio Paz (1914 - )**

Timothy McGee darted forward and reached for the door. Abby wasn't carrying anything, but he considered it polite to hold a door for a lady.

They had just finished listening to Ducky's detailed theory on how Seaman Mears had managed to set fire to his apartment while attempting to open a can of beans, which involved several dozen tangents and the need for a more detailed toxicological screen. Having no real other work to do and assigned by Gibbs to assist Abby anyway, he was going to be spending his afternoon with Major Mass Spec.

The elevator had broken down after Gibbs had abused the emergency stop once too often, so everyone had been forced to use the stairs. He had followed Abby up, careful not to look up her skirt, which was shorter than usual today – he didn't want Gibbs coming after him with a baseball bat after all.

Upon reaching the correct level, he slipped in front of her to give her a hand. She beamed at him as he tugged the door open, surprised at just how heavy it was. Was this a fire door or one to protect people against nuclear attacks?

Putting all his strength into it, he managed to lever the door open to a point where she could easily pass through.

"Thank you, Timmy," she smiled. "There's a reason everyone normally uses the elevator."


	30. Oct 30

_**Oct 30  
**_Knowledge must come through action; you can have no test which is not fanciful, save by trial.  
**Sophocles (496 BC - 406 BC)**, _Trachiniae_

Abby Scuito hated trials. Not because they sent criminals to prison for a long time, which was a good thing, and they gave justice to the injured parties, also a good thing, but because she had to wear a silly court suit.

She hated her monkey suit. It was a horrible shade of lilac, which a handsome, friendly JAG lawyer had once told her would make her appear more professional and thus help the case. She wore glasses that she didn't really need for the same reason. She couldn't wear her platform boots and had to keep her hair down to hide her spider web tattoo.

The things she did for her job…

But she also hated waiting. A court couldn't tell her when she would be called, and so she had to leave the safe confines of her lab and sit in a tiny room for hours on end. She had learnt to bring forensic journals with her to pass the time. Sometimes she would spend the whole day in the room and have to return the next in case she was called. Other times, the defendant would plead out at the last minute, or someone would be ill, or she would testify early and be able to return to the Navy Yard.

Trials were so unpredictable, unlike science. Forensics, when practiced correctly, was exact and gave a definitive answer. Trials were complex, boring and erratic. But they were necessary and so she put up with them.


	31. Oct 31

_**Oct 31  
**_As a kid, I knew I wanted to be either a cartoonist or an astronaut. The latter was never much of a possibility, as I don't even like riding in elevators.  
**Bill Watterson (1958 - )**, _The Complete Calvin and Hobbes, 2005, Introduction_

Tony DiNozzo groaned as the elevator ground to a halt. No! It couldn't break now. Not when he was only riding it to the parking garage so he could go home. Not when he had company in the metal cage.

Though he wouldn't turn down this particular company. Jenny shut her eyes are the elevator failed completely, probably cursing Gibbs in many languages for overusing the emergency stop. With a bit of luck, the lady Director, who was almost certainly sleeping with the Boss, would force him to stop using the cage as his office once they escaped.

He wondered if it was a general power cut or just a problem with the elevator. If the former, he would probably be out of here within the hour. If the latter, he was screwed. He and Jenny were probably the last people in the Navy Yard. Even Gibbs had left an hour ago.

"Well," Tony spoke, breaking the silence between them. "It could always be worse."

One perfectly formed eyebrow rose. "How?" she inquired.

"Palmer could be with us."

"I was thinking more of a caffeine-deprived Gibbs," she replied.

Tony shuddered. "Now that would be horrible. What about a Caf-Pow!-deprived Abby?"

Jenny grinned. "I'd be more worried if she had her drink. Can you imagine her bouncing off the walls?"


End file.
